


En Amour Par-dessus Ma Tête

by SecretGeniusShittyKnight (augopher)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Dancing, Epikegster, F/M, First Kiss, Implied Sexual Content, Lonely Jack Zimmerman, Love Bites, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Graduation, Visiting Samwell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/SecretGeniusShittyKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jack and Shitty returned to the Haus for a visit (and Epikegster) after graduation, Jack is determined to confess his feelings to Bittle. </p><p>Bittle is determined to do the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	En Amour Par-dessus Ma Tête

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ace_etta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_etta/gifts).



> I chose to have Jack play for the Avalanche because I wanted him far enough away from Samwell, his family, and anyone else he might know.
> 
> For ace-etta who didn't want porn or unresolved angst, ergo, this fic has neither (although there is implied sexual content- as for what happened, it's open to interpretation).

“Well aren’t you a sight for stoned eyes!”

Jack looked around as he stepped through the arrivals gate at Logan to find Shitty standing there, propped up against a pillar. He furrowed his brows at the sight of his best friend wearing sunglasses indoors. “Don’t tell me you actually drove to pick me up while high.”

Shitty threw his head back and laughed. “God no. Lardo’s in the car.”

“Why?” He lurched forward when Shitty clapped him on the back.

“Because, my friend, I didn’t feel like paying for parking. She’s circling the airport.”

He fought the urge to sigh at Shitty’s antics and instead settled for an, “It’s good to be back.”

As the pair of them walked through the airport to the baggage claim, Shitty filled him in on the unbelievable workload for law school and the two papers he was blowing off in order to partake in the festivities this weekend.

“So,” Shitty asked when they stopped at the proper carousel, “how’s Denver treating you?”

Jack shrugged. “It’s okay I guess.”

“Uh huh...man, you know how I would be spending my time if I lived in Denver.”

He rolled his eyes. “Did you forget about the league’s substance abuse policy?”

“Nope. Just imagine though...legal, free weed,” Shitty said, his voice taking on a wistful tone. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

He shook his head in resignation. God knows he loved the guy--Shitty was the best friend he could have asked for--but sometimes...he was a bit much. “If you say so.”

“Anyway, I hope you brought your party pants, because this shit is gonna be epic this weekend.”

Party pants? What in the hell were party pants.

 

***

 

Elbows deep in bread dough, Eric worked the mass of flour, yeast and egg yolks, the heels of his palms making little divots each time he rocked the dough as he worked through his nerves.

 

Press.

Fold.

Turn.

Repeat.

 

He continued the process, lost in his head. Though he’d spoken to countless times over the phone, skype and through text since graduation, he hadn’t actually seen him in months. After the graduation ceremony, he’d been so close to just telling him that he was head over heels for the guy, and if Jack didn’t feel the same way, then all was well. Jack would move out of the Haus and out to Denver to start training for his rookie season. Eric wouldn’t need to see him every day. It would make it easier to get over him. But…

He’d chickened out and said nothing.

Left to stew in his inaction, those feelings hadn’t faded, but intensified. Now that Jack and Shitty were coming for a visit, he wasn’t sure if he could continue to stay quiet. Through their conversations over the summer and beginning of the semester, Eric could tell Jack was more than a little lonely out in Denver.

Jack had tried to make friends on his team, he’d told Eric one night over Skype, but then he ran both hands through his hair (driving Eric crazy with the desire to reach through the computer screen and do the same) and confessed that the team didn’t feel like home the way Samwell had. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for professional sports. Eric had nipped that train of thought right in the ever loving bud and said, _“Jack Laurent Zimmerman, you just wait a gosh darn minute. You are a great player, you hear me? Do I need to come to Denver and make you a pie? Cause I will. You know I will.”_ Jack had laughed, a soft smile playing on his lips and said thanks, in only the way he could- the same tender way that had Eric’s stomach turning flips every time. And pairing that with the classic self-deprecating smile of Jack Zimmerman? Eric was, once more, done for.

The front door burst open, and the blaring sound of an air horn filled the Haus scaring the hell out of Eric.

“I hope you’re all ready to get shit-faced! Cause the mother-fucking prodigal sons have returned!” Shitty yelled in the living room.

Eric barely had a chance to catch his breath before Shitty burst into the kitchen with Jack shuffling along behind him like a shy and lost puppy. Jack had stopped underneath one of the overhead lamps, the light raining down on him like a halo. He looked like a damn angel, and there Eric was, flour covered hands clutching over his pounding heart, looking like a right fool.

“How’s my little Bitty?” Shitty asked, wrapping him in a hug and hauling him off his feet.

“Can’t breathe, Shitty. How  about you put me down?”

Feet firmly back on the ground once more, Eric patted him on the back and looked over at Jack to find him nervously playing with the backpack strap slung over his shoulder.

“Hi, Bittle.”

“Good to see you, Jack. Now, I need to finish this bread and hide it before the Haus fills with people hell bent on defiling it, but I have my bed set up with fresh sheets for you to sleep on tonight if you want to put your things in there.”

The smile disappeared from Jack’s face, replaced by an expression of confusion. “But where will you sleep then?”

“I have an air mattress. Don’t you worry your Quebecois head about it.”

“I don’t want to put you out of your bed, Bittle.”

Eric waved him off. “Think nothing of it. Mama would tan my hide if she knew I made a guest sleep on the floor.”

As he turned back to his dough, he thought he saw the smile return to Jack’s face.

 

***

 

The din in the busy Haus was deafening, and though Jack had grown used to it over his four years at Samwell, now that he’d been away for a while, he found he didn’t miss the noise. Parties had never been his thing. Crowds just had this way of making him feel anxious and claustrophobic. He never could figure out why, but wasn’t that usually the way with anxiety?

His hands clutched a red Solo cup of Sprite, while he listened to Chowder tell him about his anniversary dinner with Farmer. It was hard to imagine just how much the guy had matured in a year and a half, but here he was, not even twenty years old with more of a grasp on how to be an adult than Jack had, and he was twenty-five almost twenty-six now.

The music switched to one he’d long become accustomed with courtesy of Bittle. He couldn’t help it (it was practically a subconscious action by now) when his eyes scanned the room looking for that familiar blonde mop of hair. He found him atop the coffee table with Lardo, both of them seemed to be sporting the appearance of a decent buzz, faces smiling as they danced.

Well danced...that was a tame description of what they were doing. It definitely resembled grinding more than dancing. Even though he knew Bittle and Lardo were just friends, and would never be anything more than that, a small twinge of jealousy churned in Jack’s gut.

He wanted to be the one up there with him, wanted to be the one against whom those sinful hips rolled.

Even in the dim light, he could see him singing along with the lyrics, his eyes holding a sultry gleam as his lips mouthed the words. He was aware that Chowder was still beside him talking,  but hell if he could concentrate on a single thing he was saying.

When Bittle spotted him, their gazes meeting in an intense display of eye-contact, Jack’s mouth went dry when the words of the chorus started again. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew those words being sung across the were meant just for him, that maybe perhaps both of them were ‘crazy in love’.

The longer he watched the more sure of his goal he became. He looked over at Chowder and saw the half full glass of tub juice, before snatching the liquid courage out of his hand.

“Hey!”

Jack handed the cup back to him. “Thanks, Chowder” he said, patting him on the shoulder. Then, he took a deep breath and walked towards the center of the room.

“Well, look who’s feeling festive!” Bittle swayed on his feet atop the table as he shouted over the cacophony of the room.

“Hey, Bittle.”

“Don’t give me that concerned captain’s face. I’m not gonna fall. Lardo and I have been up here most of the night. We’re pros now!” He flailed his arms wildly as though he were trying to show Jack just how much balance he had.

“Actually, I was kind of hoping you’d get down,” he held out his hand, “for different reasons. Like maybe you might want to dance with someone else for a bit.” He shrugged. “I mean, if you want to.”

Bittle’s eyes went wide. “Did you just ask me to dance?”

“Yes?”

“Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit!”

Jack blinked at him a few times. What in the hell did that mean? “Is that a no?”

Bittle practically fell off the table onto him. “Absolutely not.”

When the song changed from a fast paced and up-tempo one to one with a driving sultry beat, Jack felt the blush creep up the back of his neck and spread to his ears before settling upon his cheeks. Bittle, it seemed, had been hiding a serious set of moves from the guys. Jack remembered the Haus parties when he was still in school, where he and Bittle had a danced--not together but--near one another,

The guy had never moved like this.

Feeling emboldened by Bittle’s enthusiasm, Jack took a step closer to him. There was hardly any space between them, and with every body roll, the friction was driving him crazy. But he wasn’t the only one completely living in the moment. He felt his heart stop in his chest when Bittle reached behind him and grabbed Jack’s hand, wrapping an arm around his waist.

As clichéd as it was to say, time really did stand still while his brain caught up. _Tabarnak! Je suis un esti de gros cave. Dites-lui que tu l'aimez_. Instead of overthink things which was the Jack Zimmerman way, he just went with it and moved both hands to Bittle’s waist.

 

***

 

Eric didn’t know exactly what he’d expected when he dragged Lardo up onto the coffee table with him. He would blame it on being too drunk for sound judgement, but that was a lie. Don’t ask him how, but he’d managed to make his two cups of beer last most of the night. He didn’t even feel buzzed, and the rest of the team was none the wiser. He just knew he wanted to dance, and the Haus was filled with people. Atop the coffee table seemed like a good idea at the time.

And you know what? It was...right up until his girl Queen Bey started playing over the stereo. Then, at that moment, all common sense left him and probably disappeared into the fathomless void that was the cushions on the toxic green couch. It was probably kicking it with all the missing silverware from over the years.

He’d begun singing at the top of his lungs, and when he locked eyes with Jack from across the room, well Eric wasn’t quite sure what came over him. They say alcohol lowers your inhibition, well Beyoncé lowered his. Okay?

But then the chorus started, and given by the way the expression on Jack’s face changed, Eric knew that Jack had been able to read his lips as he sang. Before he could even spare a minute to panic, Jack started moving towards him.

And Jack asking him to dance was certainly not what he’d expected either, neither was the way Eric’s courage decided to take over and have him put his hips into the dance a lot more than he usually would. Surely, this was not what Jack meant when he’d asked him to hop down from the table.

_What are you doing grabbing his hand like that. Oh why don’t you just go whole hog and grab the other one since you’re in such a feisty mood?_

Instead, Jack surprised him, wrapping his right arm around Eric’s waist to join his other one. Then, he pulled him closer, and sweet baby Jesus, Eric was going to die as Jack matched him move for move. Look, Eric had been witness to his dancing before. He wasn’t bad; it was just that...well Canadian Hockey Robot doesn’t just scream ‘Boy’s got moves’.

His heart was rabbiting in his chest. Plus, he was out of breath from dancing, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be. Especially, when he felt a brush of skin against the shell of his ear.

“Is this okay?”

Eric couldn’t help but shiver when hot breath ghosted over his skin. “Uh huh,” and goodness, he sounded wrecked.

“And...how about this?”

His knees almost buckled when Jack pressed a kiss on his pulse point below his ear. “Y...yes.”

“And this?”

The hot, open-mouthed kiss Jack pressed to the back of his neck had him whimpering, legitimately whimpering. “Something you’re trying to say, Jack?”

“Mhmm,” he mumbled against his neck. Well, that’s what Eric thought he’d said. All he really felt was the vibration rumble through Jack’s lips and into his body.

Eric wriggled in his grasp so he could turn around to face him. It was always a bit of a stretch to look up at Jack, but with the way the guy was looking at him right now, with a private smile, eyes hooded, affectio- oh. _Oh_ . _Well, you don’t get anywhere in life without taking risks._ He reached up and curled a hand around the back of Jack’s neck pulling him down into a kiss.

Jack practically melted into him, like he’d been holding everything back, holding his feelings inside for so long, he couldn’t figure out how to get the words out of his mouth. He traced Eric’s bottom lip with his tongue, and all self-restraint went out the window.

The ‘I love you,’ was out of Eric’s mouth before he could stop himself. He prayed that Jack hadn’t heard him, but the blinding smile and blush on his cheeks said otherwise. He was hoping for another kiss when Jack turned, his lips barely touching Eric’s ear.

“Bitty, _moi aussi._ _T’es beau comme un p’tit coeur et je suis en amour par-dessus ma tête._ ”

Oh dear Lord. He’d heard Jack speak French many times, but never once had it been meant purely for him. Even though Eric only understood maybe three words, they’d been the important ones and felt so deeply intimate that they gave him the courage to be far bolder than he’d ever be normally.

He grabbed Jack’s hand, intertwining their fingers, and led him towards the stairs. Outside his bedroom door, he stopped. “We don’t...have to do anything if you don’t want, but I would really like to keep kissing you. And,” he felt his face flame, “if you want more than that tonight, that’s okay with me.”

Jack’s face turned what was probably a similar shade of red to his own, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “I think I’d like that.” He pursed his lips. “No, I _would_ like that.”

Eric opened his door for Jack to walk through, following him in, and shut the door behind them.

 

***

 

Yawning, Eric flipped the batch of pancakes on the griddle. _There we are, golden brown and delicious._ While the griddle cakes cooked, he rubbed at his shoulders, trying to ease the ache in them. God he was tired. Worth it though, he thought, as his fingers brushed over a bruise that Jack’s mouth had sucked into his skin. What had he called them? _Sucettes_? Something like that. Whatever it was, they were lovely reminders that last night did, in fact happen, and he hadn’t been merely dreaming.

A wolf whistle rang out behind him, startling him out of his reverie.

“Look at that, Rans. Our little Bitty finally got some.”

Eric could practically hear the smirk in Holster’s voice, as the guy helped himself to coffee.

“Nice hickies. What’s his name?”

He opened his mouth to lecture them about being gentlemen, but Jack shuffled, barely awake, into the kitchen and towards him, right past the rest of the guys. “ _Bonjour,_ _mon cœur_ ,” he said, with a yawn, before pressing a kiss to Eric’s temple.

Eric shivered when Jack’s fingers brushed over the hickey on the back of his neck.

“Looks good on you,” he whispered.

Behind them, Eric heard a hushed ‘I told you so, Holster. Go tell Nursey he owes me fifty bucks.’

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> French used in fic (I tried to use Quebecois wherever I could)  
> Tabarnak! Je suis un esti de gros cave. Dites-lui que tu l'aimez- Fuck! I am a big fucking idiot  
> moi aussi. T’es beau comme un p’tit coeur et je suis en amour par-dessus ma tête- me too. You are beautiful like a little heart, and I am in love over my head.  
> Bonjour, mon cœur- Good morning, my heart  
> sucettes- hickies, lovebites (In Quebecois anyway- I believe the European French translation for sucette is lollipop)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the fic, Etta (and I hope you were okay with the implied sexy content). It was my first foray into writing for this fandom, and I had fun writing this.


End file.
